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Whispers of Victory
'Section Summaries' 'Two Birds, No Stones' 'Severa & Davus, In-Between Moments' “Who are you?” Davus was angry, but his tone was far removed from his traditional voice of anger. It was more pained, a denialists voice. Even seeing someone that looked like him brought anger. Despite being brothers created by Ratnis, even Sirius had not shared the same appearance as Davus. And yet here stood a man, a being, going by Davie, that shared Davus’ face. “That is the wrong question.” Severa answered on his behalf. “It doesn’t matter who he is, or who he was, or who he will be. Just as you believe it doesn’t matter who you used to be.” “But it does matter!” Davus shouted defiantly. “Not here.” Davie answered. He shared Davus’ voice as well, determined and powerful but projected with a potent subtlety, something Davus never had. Davus had trouble focusing on Davie. All around he saw ghost images, specters of others passing through the temple. He saw versions of himself, versions of his past enemies and allies, great battles and destruction of worlds. He felt himself being pulled towards it, catching only one more glimpse of Davie before completely tumbling into the flow of reality. And then he felt a hand gripping his arm, yanking him back to the hall of specters. It was the one with his face, Davie. He looked remorseful, filled with pity for Davus. “This place grants memories of past lives only when they are truly needed. Before this moment, it was not important to know who I was, it was not important to answer your question. But now I sense things have changed.” Davie’s gaze was unwavering. Davus suddenly wanted to look away, but felt locked in place. “We are of different worlds. The Davus I knew was my brother, a twin that was my equal and my opposite. He murdered me amidst a great war of elements, a single death in his murderous conquest. He held the power of the elemental stone of water, a titan of the land in an age of absolute destruction. I know not the ultimate fate of that world, but I know his fate was one of despair and sorrow. It was only in his death at the end that he realized the wasted potential, the pointlessness of his conquest.” “I am not that man.” Davus remained defiant. But he didn’t get a sense that Davie disagreed. It felt more like reassurance. He was being reminded that his new path, whether or not it was the right one, was more right than his old path. “But I am not some hero.” “Do you understand now?” Severa interrupted. For the first time ever, she looked like she had true empathy for Davus. He showed no external response but the quivering of his eyes. He did not want to answer, and did not need to. Severa’s question transformed to that of the rhetorical and silence settled in for a time. Davus suddenly wanted to ask Davie questions, know more, be more. But that desire alone meant that the reason for his visit to this place was over. The temple, the specters, and Davie all began to fade away. A whisper of Davie remained on the wind. “You have been granted a single gift by the Temple of Forever. You will be exactly where you need to be, when you need to be there...Do not waste it, for this gift will not be given twice.” 'Davus, Kakariko Village, Long Night 3' With the words faded fully on the wind, reality snapped back into place sharply. The sounds of both elemental screaming, and civilian screaming, could be heard. Always a storm, always destruction. For once when Davus joined in the destruction, it would be with the goal of stopping it. He smiled. “Severa.” His smiled dropped when he turned to her. She had helped him, but they would never be friends. They would be barely be allies, only for as long as was needed. It was okay. This was about more than that. “I’m giving you a chance to prove yourself.” Severa backed away from the destruction all around, finding a dark corner in the shadows to stay in. Several hundred feet away a battle waged between Taden and Polaris. The Temple and Davie had moved them from the mining facility to Kakariko. Davus felt inclined to do just what Severa said. Finally prove he was on the right side. Would do what was right. Taden had not seen him, and he now held Lynn hostage. Davus had always acted in chaos, disorder. Now he chose precision. With every bit of focus he had, he aimed a singular lightning bolt at the knife now held to Lynn’s throat by Taden. The bolt and Davus moved in unison to the point of the blue fire. The lightning cut a hole through the fire and Davus passed beyond the ring and stopped at its edge. The bolt continued onward, striking the knife away from Lynn and burning the ice off. Taden was forced back a few feet, and Davus moved from the blue fire ring to within a few feet of Taden. “What do you know of true hell?” Davus asked Taden. Lightning struck the ground all around them both, spraying red ice and brown earth into the air. Davus gestured towards Polaris. “I stayed with this one through thousands of years in hell itself. I’ve seen terrors that would send you crawling back to whatever ice hole you came back from. My name is Davus Fulmen...you know me, knew me as Fulmen the Feared. But the only ones now who should feel fear are my enemies.” Davus felt more powerful than ever before. Reborn with purpose. “You are outnumbered, Hothnight. Retreat.” 'Lynn Hothlight, Kakariko, Time' Her movements were exact. This was the moment, the chance. Polaris, Taden, herself... all together. Fate, it would seem. As Polaris showboated the battle, she moved as she had been trained, as she had lived her life. She moved knowing Taden wouldn't be fooled. And the moment came. A blast of Blue Flame. That familiar chill. A knife at her throat. “You should know better than to backstab a backstabber, especially one you trained.” The soft whisper of that most Hated creature, against her ear. So close. She almost had to fight to keep the exultant sense of victory tarnishing the expressionless mask of her face. And it all came crashing down. Unexpected interlopers, the hallmark of this whole damn war. Davus Fulmen, the Feared, acting as he did best: sewing chaos. Lightning struck, the Maskmaker's Knife jerked away from her throat, and with it went the frozen chill that dammed her mortality. Blood began to flow down her neck, pooling precariously in the hollow of her exposed collarbone before soaking into the torn fabric of her suit. Fulmen strode confidently through the Blue Fire, stalking his way to mere feet in front of Taden. “You are outnumbered, Hothnight. Retreat.” "No." Lynn spat, her voice low but projecting. "No retreat." She torqued her body, twisting at the waist. The rime cracked, and she screamed as it tore into her and away from her. "I know you better, now, Taden," she snarled through clenched jaw. With a force of will, her left leg shattered its confines, and Polaris' blood-rain made its best efforts to hide the result. "But you have forgotten..." a sharp hiss punctuated her words as she stepped forward onto her ragged foot, "... something about me!" The last word was screamed as her right leg broke free, and she stumbled at the effort, falling at Taden's feet. Her head lifted, tears unbidden welling up in her eyes. She grabbed his ankle, firmly but with the first signs of weakness from her injuries. She glared at Taden, and a seething roiling well of deep hatred burned behind her eyes. "I am Garo's Blessing." And she let go of the hold she had kept for so many months on the bubble of the Light Spirit's Blessing riding in her soul, that Blessing which had cushioned and protected her at times from the piece of Taden's own soul living in her. Finally, peace washed over Lynn Annei. She glowed from within, brighter and brighter, until blinding all those around her. And she focused that power into a single point, shaping it to a single purpose. She channeled the Blessing out through the hand which held firm to Taden, forcing its power into him. 'Taden Horwendil, Kakariko Village,Long Night 3' A sudden silence overcame the field as Lynn’s fingers grasped his boot; he looked down, stunned from the newcomer’s lightning strike, and could barely discern the words coming from her lips in his deafness. "I am Garo's Blessing." Still no sound came to Taden’s sharp ears as white subsumed his field of vision. He only felt his muscles rend from their ligaments, his bones break, the skin on his eyes and mouth and neck shred like melting ice in the morning. He rocked back, slammed into the brick of the Kakariko Windmill, and fell limp against the grass as rubble from the structure collapsed on top of him. Dust fell for a moment, and the silence seemed to stretch across the battlefield. Lynn lay prone, fist clenched above the ground, while Davus and Polaris stood watch from their vantage. The crackle of Blue Fire still lingered around the edges of the arena, as did the glistening whisper of Red Ice. Then from beneath the rubble, laughter. A cackling peal seemed to hiccup from the debris, and the limp, lithe body of the Hated rose all at once into the air as if on strings, its Shaman’s Mask closing over the blank, unconscious face, and the Dusk Mail giving an otherworldly glow. The masked young body began to sway to and fro as the dark aura grew around the Dusk Mail adorning his chest. He curled into a fetal position in midair, then vanished in a sudden veil of fog and clap of thunder, his laughter still echoing over the cold commons. “You are…Garo’s Blessing?” a deep, sinister voice called out from the fog. “…Thou fool god. What do you know…of the Void?” With another clap of thunder, and a flash of lightning from within the gathering fog, a great wind of ice and snow lashed out towards the gathered warriors, the unholy battleaxe Ginnungagap borne on its wing. Revolving in the air, the black Axe smashed through the raised pillars of Red Ice from Polaris, sending them all crashing down to the ground over the warriors’ heads, then returned in a long arc to the swirling arctic vortex whence it came. “I am Tempest!” As the shattered Red Ice columns rained down in shards, Tempest burst from the icy vortex in the form of a towering barbarian Yeti, his battleaxe borne aloft in stoney hands, his Dusk Mail transformed into a full suit of commanding black armor. He roared into the long night as Blue Fire whipped up around him in a maelstrom, and he rode the wave of night’s flame towards his enemies, bringing an earth-cleaving strike of his Axe down at their center, sending shockwaves of paralyzing cold out in every direction. Even as he plunged bodily into his strike, the sky overhead lost its scarlet luster, and bolts of Blue Fire began to rain down from the blackened spiral of clouds. 'Chamdar Taliesin, Hidden Kakariko, Evening Three' Dead flesh piled upon itself. The tide of redead and stalchildren had reversed, shrinking back toward their golem of bone, tissue, and blood as the reaper circled with its scythe raised high and the Celestial hurled his sunbeams into their ranks, igniting their putrescent flesh in holy fire. The arrows and balls of worldly flame still rained in from beyond the killing field. The threat appeared contained, but for the beast at its epicenter. The golem continued to snatch its smaller fragments as they fled past, crushing them in its enormous hands or ensnaring them in its writhing tentacles and crushing them against itself, slowly resorbing every sickly drone. Its wounds healed with every creature it took back into itself, and it grew larger. Every time it opened its mouth it loosed an audible miasma into the air, corrupting the field. The fireballs and flaming arrows struck it, but fizzled out, lacking the power to damage it. Chamdar had his watch in his hand, the silver chain extending from above the face of the device back into the pocket of his cassock. The luminous runes flashed wildly as he ran long, bony fingers across it in an intricate pattern, accessing its many functions. The others continued to revolve closer and closer to the golem, orbiting in ever tighter circles as the ranks of the undead thinned and the golem grew in strength. Whatever had borne this beast into the world, its magic was powerful. It would not die easily, and much of the Scion's strength was spent. He reached down to his belt. There the pearly dagger he'd taken from his vault rested innocently against his hip. Circumspect, he drew it out of the sheath, baring the lustrous blade rippling with lines of cold light and tongues of azure flame. Pilfered power, a sliver of a sliver. The angel and the reaper, death and light, encircled the golem, now alone on the battlefield, lashing at it with their powers. The scythe swept through the tendrils undulating wildly, severing them and sending puffs of ash into the air with each pass. The angel's power bored into the core of the creature, but it was stronger than it should have been and the holy fires did not wither or scorch with the force they should have. This Celestial was a creature of the Sacred Realm, not of mortal earth. What was needed was an angel's might made of earthly flesh that could bring its full power to bear. Still, the beast bellowed its nauseating cry, warping the very air around itself and holding its adversaries at arms' length. It was fully focused on the two unearthly creatures, and its eyes were closed to the Scion. He pressed his thumb down on a rune on the display of the pocket watch, which cleared the face of all others. The selected run turned green and began to flash, slow at first but picking up speed. He snapped the watch closed, buried it in his pocket, and despite a grimace made a limping sprint toward the beast. He had no voice to loose the lightsong, and his wounds flared painfully. He passed beneath the fluttering, ethereal robes of the reaper and then ducked as tentacles slapped out at him wildly. With his free hand he caught hold of one, almost retching as the contact turned his stomach. Still he held on and used the tentacle to wrench himself off of his feet and pull himself inside the reach of the golem's titanic arms. Other tentacles lashed out, encircling him, constricting and trying to crush him, even as they sickened and brought bile up to burn his throat. He buried the dagger, its pearly blade glowing silver-blue and flickering with flame, up into his head from below the jaw. Arctic energies unleashed in a torrent. Blue flame erupted from the blade and flashed the golem to ice from the inside out. Its head froze, then its neck, then shoulders and chest, all in an explosion of cold, a self-contained blizzard. The tentacles froze and then shattered, and close as he was Chamdar should have taken the brunt of the blast as well, but for the countdown he'd initiated. Unseen in his pocket, the run upon his pocketwatch stopped blinking. Even as the wave of Hothnight's appropriated power should have turned him to a pile of flash-frozen flesh, the field erupted in an emerald glare. When it subsided, the golem was a broken pile of icy chunks and the Scion was nowhere to be seen. 'Chamdar, Above Kakariko Village, Night Three' Chamdar reconstituted the dark. He manifested on hands and knees, gasping painfully. His face and beard were coated with hoarfrost, his coat was stiff from the intense cold. Everything hurt. Too close to the blast. Stupid, risky, but fortunately effective. What do you do when your powers seem to have little effect? Turn the darkness upon itself. Through the darkness came a light, a blurry glare. Then another, and another. Seven in all, approaching from all sides, encircling him. His vision cleared and he laid eyes upon figures hooded and robed in all colors. Each figure held a torch aloft and gazed down upon him from within their drawn hoods. "Lord Scion," one grinding voice said softly. The others uttered things he could not make out, and they drew closer. One offered a free hand and helped the Scion to his feet. He staggered a step and brought a trembling hand up to his face, wiping away the patina of rime coating his mouth and nose. Farore's Wind... not a pleasant experience in his current state. "What hour is it?" "Late, Lord Scion," said the first speaker. "Dark fell hours ago. The last remnants of Hyrule are under siege from above and below. Primordials have begun to unleash their fury. Hylians flee to Kakariko and the mountain from their hidden sanctuary, pursued by the Twili. The Hated is the tip of that spear, while Kinslayer has disturbed the mountain itself." "Then it's nearly time." The robed figures fell silent at that. Two moved aside to allow him past, and he limped through the dark toward the mouth of a tunnel he could barely see. That tunnel led from the antechamber and opened into a broad cavern within the mountainside, this one lit by seven standing braziers set in a heptagon pattern. The flames burning there lit the outer wall of the cavern, revealing glimmering runes upon those surfaces. Wards and spells to safeguard and conceal them. Within the circle of braziers stood a raised platform inscribed with a series of triangles. An image of the golden triangles, the Triforce of the Goddesses. The priests filtered in behind him and gradually all took their places upon the platform, standing in perfect alignment with the braziers against the outer edge of the cavern. They set their torches down on the stone and gradually each sank down cross legged, their arms buried in their sleeves. Chamdar approached and drew the blood red book from inside of his coat. Holding the thing so close to his heart had sickened him every but as much as his contact with the undead monster, but in a different manner. It was a sickness of the soul. An abomination. A necessity. He opened the cover and flipped the pages, then set it down at the center of the platform, in the heart of the Triforce symbol carved into the stone. "This must be. You seven, your blood and your souls, will ignite the light that ends the Primordials for all time." He turned in a slow circle, favoring his injured leg. So quiet, resolute, these priests he'd made, these holy men he'd blessed and sanctified with the power of the Sacred Realm. Utter devotion, absolute clarity of purpose. Their sacrifice would beget his own. "Begin the ritual." The first chanted lines of the incantation followed him as he exited the hidden sanctum and made his way out into the night. Cold winds buffeted him as he found himself upon the slope of Death Mountain, high above the Kakariko graveyard which he could see below. A storm had risen, and above the sky glared red as the volcano spewed flame into the dark. The air was a blanket of hot smoke and cold fog. Below, signs of battle were evident. Using his staff as support, he began the slow descent toward madness. Nearly time. Nearly. 'Polaris Eridanus, Kakariko Village, Long Night of the 3rd' Frigid shockwaves burst forth from Taden’s strike in all directions as Polaris spread his arms wide and managed to right himself in free fall. With some slight measure of control regained, he reached down deep into the innermost depths of his being and called to the tumbling boulders of Red Ice. Answering his beckon call, they formed a cyclone beneath him with chunk after chunk slamming together taking form slowly. Polaris landed on his feet on the back of lump of Red Ice as it still morphed haphazardly as if thrown together by some giant toddler. Standing upright with his sword rested against his shoulder, the General smirked ”I am… well, we know who I am. No surprise introductions here. Bored with your games is one thing I guess we could call me Horwendil. I really have somewhere else to be.” The big crimson lump shivered from end to end and then back, tail to snout as large leathery wings burst forth, phosphorescent drops of Red Ice fell from them like rain as the construct screeched in indignation to the flaming blue heavens, while bathing the stormy skies with its frozen flames. Leaping from betwixt the Red Ice Dragon’s shoulders, Polaris dove headfirst towards the ground below while the dragon took to the skies. Moments before reaching the ground Polaris flipped forward and landed catlike with a little hop and a crouch. He had lost track of both Lynn and Davus during the initial fall, but knew that they were close even after the arctic blast from the giant axe. Twirling Winters Tide in his grip, Polaris walked Taden down whilst their very elements did battle across the canvass of this seemingly endless night. As he looked upon Taden encumbered by his armor of Dusk, his face tingled and he smiled with memory. "You have been touched by the Warp. By chaos. So be it. In the end, we choose our own way. If you would safeguard Order in this world, then do so." ”So be it.” His bare crimson scales glowed silver as he burst forward in an explosion of controlled violence, swinging his sword in a diagonal arc, glancing off of the haft of Ginnungagap with an odd clang as his prey brought the axe up in defense. Taden swung a gauntleted fist in a wide haymaker, narrowly dodged with a backflip. Polaris sent a mid-air blast of red ice towards Tempests breastplate before landing with Winters Tide brought up in a defensive position. 'Davus, Edges of Kakariko Battle, Night 3' Davus’ intrusion on the fight had been more about proclaiming a new stance in life than make a dramatic difference. These were all seasoned fighters, intimately familiar with both life and death, most having experienced each more than once. Davus was no stranger to that. It had become almost casual, expected. Not that it ever made the sensation of dying any less pleasant. Or living more pleasant. He heard the hushed calls of Severa drawing him further from the fight, to the dark corners of the village where the elemental lights did not push back the night sky. She was stoic, but he could read her well enough, even she was satisfied with his performance, if not outright impressed. “You know this world doesn’t need us here anymore.” She remarked. “We both have a more important role in it, but not as a part of this era. The future calls.” “I don’t want to hear any more talk about the prisms of time or whatever.” Davus said, with only a hint of snark. He mostly meant it. “But I’m listening.” “We can stick around long enough to make sure that darkness really is repelled, ensure the future is as it should be, and then we make that future our present, and save it too.” Davus was disgruntled at the suggestion of more time travel. But at least in this instance it sounded like a straightforward path to the future, and not some convoluted loop where his soul was reborn from itself. It had taken millennia in hell with Polaris just to come to terms with that sequence of events. “This is Polaris’ fight. But I can tell that the three bastions of fire, ice, and lightning will be sharing a battlefield soon. I’m not leaving before that.” Davus smiled, this time the snark being replaced with a hint of his old sinister self. But it was controlled, directed. He would not be murdering innocents or blindly casting chaos. This was just about some good old fashioned fun. Like old times. 'Tempest, Kakariko Village, Long Night 3' Tempest whipped his right foot in the air, and the black padded sole slapped the Red Ice blast from its course, splitting into five beams between his long toes and glancing off his fanged helm. He rotated his leg out lengthwise and twisted his hips, lowering his massive foot without bending his knee, while meeting the General’s gaze through the raging eyes of his mask. “Your petty magicks will not avail you, old man,” he boasted. In truth, the Red Ice General had somehow joined forces with a mage whose elemental power of Thunder gave them just enough of an edge to meet the sorcery of his Storms, if not worse. Stalling for Lord Grem and Captain Ryssdal against these foes would be impossible, as the night bore on into seeming endlessness. He decided to switch tactics. Whatever these conjurers were capable of, they still fought on the side of good. “You will not have a chance against me, nor your armies against mine, so long as you defend these Hylian peasants in their weakness. Your power to protect will crumble under my power to destroy.” Tempest planted both feet firmly in the frozen soil and pulled his arms in to his sides; he turned his glare upward, and a column of Blue Fire shot up all around him, shining from the eyes and mouth of his metallic mask. In a flash, he burst into the air, and landed on the side of the towering windmill in Kakariko’s commons. With an animalistic roar that shook its foundations, Tempest ripped a cornice off the windmill with one fat hand, then hurled it into the rooftops below. The flying rock shattered the Red Ice cover Polaris had created and pummeled the house below, as Blue Fire began to catch on its thatched roof. Before the dust settled, Tempest tore two more boulders of brick from stonework mill, and jettisoned them into the buildings below. The screams of the villagers trapped under the rubble began to echo into the sideways winds, as fire blue as lightning dripped from his rounded eyes and from his jagged, curling teeth. Before the warriors below even had time to react, Tempest leapt from the windmill to the eaves of a large mansion below, moving with a meteoric speed that defied his gargantuan heft, and the shingles splashed out of his way as the mansion’s walls and pillars buckled. Tempest swung his Axe once and stripped the manse of its facade, then flew into the night once again, arms and legs stretched back behind him as his black leathery gut seemed to propel itself skyward of its own accord. He brought his Axe down in the middle of a street, and the rows of buildings on either side fell away like stalks of wheat in a windstorm. He kept moving, never still for longer than it took to wreak havoc on the structures around him, working his way deeper and deeper into the oldest parts of the town. Behind him, a field of Blue Fire raised up over the shambles of Kakariko Village, as another great city of Hyrule began to fall to the ravages of war. In the distance ahead, he could see the Graveyard, and with each swing of Ginnungagap, he drew closer to its gates. 'Davus, Master of Chaos, Endless Night 3, Kakariko' “This isn't Polaris’ fight. It’s not your fight. It’s nobody’s fight.” Severa said, the sound of distaste in the air. Her disapproval weighed heavily. Shirking his old reactionary ways, Davus bravely pushed forward with his new view of the world, and considered more thoughtfully her real meaning. “I am the master of chaos.” Davus said, raising a sparking hand in the air. Severa tensed, and Davus dropped the hand to his side. “I understand now. It was always here, just on the other side.” He was a little confused by his own words, but the drive within him was clearer than ever. Where he could sow chaos, he could also cure it. By the relaxed look on her face, it was clear Severa understood. It was a moment in time that spoke more loudly than words could. Bringing his attention back to the battlefield was easy, with Taden going on a particularly flashy and admittedly impressive display of combat prowess. Davus almost wanted to cheer him on out of sheer respect, if he wasn’t so bored by it all. But entertainment didn’t matter, this was about proving to himself, and to Severa, that he was not the man he was made to be. “Let’s clean this up.” Davus began gesturing much like an orchestra conductor, tracing pathways of lightning across the sky and down to the earth. With surgical precision, focused lightning strikes blasted apart debris and boulders imprisoning and crashing down upon the civilians. In a matter of seconds, enough for a single sweep of lightning strikes, much of the chaos was calmed. Davus continued conducting and the strikes began hitting key points where the blue fire burned, carving up the ground and isolating the fire and smaller patches. “Okay I didn’t know you could do that. Did you just put out blue fire with lightning?” Davus was surprised to hear Severa’s surprise, given her supposed experience in alternate worlds of just about every shape and size. Davus turned back, stone faced from concentration. “Magic.” He said, returning his focus to his new masterpiece of work. He only saw the hint of Severa’s shrugging response, finishing off the last of the blue fire that still burned in Taden’s wake. He directed the storm to condense over the graveyard and began slowly walking towards it. “Polaris, whoever else is here. Let’s skip the part where we find out if I’m to be trusted. I’m against that.” Davus pointed to Taden’s beastly form. “Anyone else also against that, come help me put it down.” 'Polaris Eridanus, Kakariko Village, Good Lord It Can’t Possibly Still Be Night of the 3rd' “Polaris, whoever else is here. Let’s skip the part where we find out if I’m to be trusted. I’m against that.” Davus pointed to Taden’s beastly form. “Anyone else also against that, come help me put it down.” The last of the blue flame glittered in the General’s coal black eyes as it slowly guttered and died out. A lot had happened in a relatively short time. Kakariko was destroyed and yet, it wasn’t. Davus had leached off of him for centuries. And perhaps because of that familiarity, he found that he believed him. As shocking as it was. He shrugged and released the magic that summoned Winters Tide. The blade dissolved and Polaris fell in stride with his foe turned ally. ”That’ll do. They had traveled several yards before Polaris stopped and turned back, Lynn was there. Somewhere. Though she showed no signs of joining them. With a sigh he turn and strode towards the storm. Davus’ symphony of death raged on in the heavens above the resting place of so many dead and just like the pied piper lead rats through the street, The Hated bid The Feared and The Crimson General to follow. The stench of sulfur hung in the air and Polaris’ scales nearly hummed with anticipation. The black mass of Tempest hung suspended above the Graveyard, illuminated now and again as the bolts crashed down around him. It was as Davus would have it. There was a poetry to the chaos though. A rhythm. A pattern. ”The taunts and tantrums only avail you so much Horwendil. Smashing things and running away. I thought we were past all that?” Fast as thought would allow, Polaris fired off several blasts of Red Ice in all directions, each was struck by a bolt from above. Many of them shattered and hurtled towards Taden still suspended above. Those closest to Polaris shimmered and coalesced into crackling blood red armor that swirled down and around him, melding with his body. A hardened breastplate with the wide maw of some great shark outlined in silver, it covered his chest and torso, extending down until it met with a Shendyt, shot with streaks of quicksilver that hung to his knees. Winters Tide took the form of the lightning forged, chained makhaira and he lashed out with both weapons, the blades just moments behind the red ice shrapnel. 'Diverted Destinies' 'Umbra, Long Night 3, Subterranean Cell (Kakariko)' She writhed from the touch of him. Her lips burned at the memory of his own. But she felt... contented. Full. Complete. Ready. Something new. Something alien. Something... other? No, no. Not her thoughts. Her thoughts, yes, of course, but not hers. Down, down, down. Stay your part, until the part is played. A role for all, and for all a roll. Well, except for her. The roll was over, and the role still remained. She fingers brushed softly across her stomach, then flicked across her hips as though brushing away dust. The shadows wiggled, cavorting over her flesh. Or through it. Or in it. Or under it. Or all. Or none. The shadows didn't have to choose. They didn't like to choose. Choosing is just so fatalistic. Best to avoid that kind of thing, when you already know how its going to end anyway. She felt a tug. Her skin pulled, and she smiled. "Wayward son come home, and about time it is! Oh, and Papa just left, how sad." As she spoke, a Duskrift tore the cell asunder, and came from it Taur Dagnir schlepping the battered but conscious form of Senshi Ma, the Shinigami. The armored brute threw the young man at Umbra's feet, while his other gauntleted hand tightly bound a squirming child. Umbra smiled at Taur, the effect quite disconcerting when formed by her shadowy essence. "Good boy. Have a biscuit." Her fingers wiggled, curled, and a puck of Dusk formed in her palm, which she tossed to the Darknut. Then she dismissed his presence, on to a more interesting plaything. "So, we meet once more! What a day for reunions! Heart be still! Still, a heart. Shadowcaster, still, but Shadowmere, I think?" She crouched beside him. "You aren't truly beaten, we both know that. Prove your strength. Take the leap. Be the big damn hero." She leaned forward, whispering to him. "Do you think I'm the bad guy here? Or are you the bad guy?" She pulled back with a laugh. "Ohohohoho! What is good and evil, anyway? Or right and wrong? Absolutes, so obsessive, aren't they? You've been through so much, and learned so little. My little protege. Shall I tell you a secret?" She turned to Taur, distracted by the pulsing emanations of Dusk from the puck resting in his puck. "Should I give it away?" Of course, the brute didn't answer. She loved the child for that, so dutiful. So observant. So lost. What a blessing. She winked at the child, that confused soul. Misha. Mikhail. Duality. These Hylians just weren't built to embrace it. That really was a shame. Fool Goddesses. Half-measures, in all. Umbra tiled forward once more, whispering again to her captive audience. "Senshi Ma. Know this, you slow-learning fool of a man: Shadow is not bad. Darkness is not evil. These powers care not for your quibbling over right and wrong. All that matters is what you do with them." She cupped his chin in a umbral hand, lifting his head. She looked into his eyes, sincerity painted in the queer expressions that played on her Dusk-formed face, and sincerity dripping from her pleading tone. "Help me save the world." 'Lord General Grem, Long Night 3-ish, Simeon's Warcamp' Grem made his way through the camp, approaching Simeon's wartent. "How goes the siege? Have you captured the Bryseis bitch?" _ 'Simeon Ryssdal, Zora's Domain Entrance, Day Three' Simeon and his company of men led their army through the narrow canon’s and river valleys of northern Hyrule into the frozen wasteland of Zora’s Domain. Though on the lookout for any sign of ambush the landscape remained deftly quiet. It seemed like the once proud Zora tribe had lost its means, or perhaps even its will to fight. After an uneventful horseback ride Simeon dismounted at the foot of a frozen waterfall with Zephyra flanking his side. Their waited the Zora, King Realto, and his bone thin contingent of guards. With the guards holding out a white flag Simeon approached and met the monarch alone on center ice. “Ah, King Realto!” laughed Simeon in a faux jester of warmth. “What a pleasure it is to meet you in person. I assume you’ve come to surrender? I can personally guarantee favorable terms on behalf of your people. We would be honored to have your dominion as an autonomous territory of the Twili Kingd…” “Spare me your false pleasantries’” said the king rolling his eyes. “You and I both know the only reason I’m here is because my forces lack the capacity to fight back. If I had the chance I would gut you where you stand interloper!” “Well then it's my good fortune that’s not an option for you. Fighting back would only result in your tribes annihilation I’m afraid. Come now, why act so rude to your liberators when your fate depends on our good grace?” “Liberators?” questioned the king in a condescending tone. “If survival depends on your grace, then clearly you’re not liberators. Our independence is not up for negotiations. I will have none of you set foot in my realm!” “Well then good king, how do you propose to keep us out? Open battle won't end well for you. Even my mercy has its limits.” “Like your fathers did?” Simeon stopped breathing as his eyes widened at those words. A look of shocked disbelief washed over Simeon for a second, only for him to regain his composure with a nervous chuckle. "..Heh, I uhhh, I'm afraid I don't quite follow. My family's distinguished military history goes back…” “To when your grandfather was executed for denouncing dusk worship" chimed in King Realto. "Diven by revenge your father took it upon himself to ferment a rebellion against the Twili Kingdom. He started the bloodiest war in your nations history until now, the Twili Civil War." Simeon remained as composed as ever, but found he couldn't look the king in the eyes anymore. “…You've clearly mistaken my identity. I have nothing to do with that man…” “You Twili are not the only ones to conduct espionage. My spies learned you served as his most trusted warrior. A child soldier raised from birth with one singular objective in life. The eradication of your fellow countrymen. And eradicate them you did, by the hundreds and thousands. Speak I not of the truth?” Simeons attempted to speak calmly, but the spiteful tones of his voice revealed a murderous rage no man could conceal. “No, you speak like an arrogant litte wretch who knows nothing of history. Who ever that boy was must have been stupid and brainwashed. I'm a loyal Twili patriot! I became known as the one who killed that man, and helped to end that war!” “Only after you caused a massacre that killed thousands. You didn't care about the death count until you found your sister and mother among the number. Enraged, you plotted to kill your father in retribution. You snuck your way into the Twili army for completely selfish reasons. Tell me Simeon, if that is your real name, what would your men think of all this?" "You've spent the past decades trying to separate yourself from the sins of your youth. Yet your whole adult life has been but that of an act. Would you like me to reveal to your followers what you've spent years trying to hide? Would they still follow you into battle knowing they lost relatives to your hands? Would they still look up to you knowing everything about you has been a fraud?" At last Grem's newly appointed count reached his boiling point and grabbed Realto by the neck. "You lyin' sack o' horse shit! I otta' slaughter you like a..." Simeon stopped upon noticing his long suppressed, low class accent resurfacing. He turned behind him to see everyone watching, though he was sure no one could have overhead this compromising conversation. He let go of the king and dusted him off. "You wanted to blackmail me? Congratulations! You have it. Name your demands.” “I want you to leave here and never return” replied back the monarch. “Take your war and your deceitfulness elsewhere. If so much as one Twili sets foot in our domain, we will leak everything we know about your backstabbing was to your army. Then it will be your men, not mine, which you should fear for your life.” Simeon stood hauntingly still, his mind struggling to process everting that just transpired. At last he nodded to the king and walked back to the Twili looking defeated. Smiling ear to Realto nodded and returned to the cheering choir of his guards. Cheering that gave way to terroir as a bolt of light melted a hole in the back of the Zora monarchs head. Dropping dead on the ice, the Zora guards looked over their fallen kings body to find Simeon and his cavalry charging them. “They’ve refused to surrender” shouted Simeon over the roaring stampede. “Make an example of them!” “Simeon no! Their not real soldiers. They can’t fight back” shouted Zephyra to no avail as her husband rode by. To their effort the half-starved milita of drafted guards tried to put up a resistance, only to be mowed down like blades of grass. One by one they were impaled, sliced and dismembered, with not a single Twili casualty among the number. Zora soldiers rushed in from the sidelines, only for their slow and clumsy movements to get them blown up by Simeon’s energy blasts. One final group of archers tried to fire a volley of arrows from the cliffside above, only to be meet with red blinking light across in their chests. The archers winced expecting to meet their end, only to find the laser non-lethal. “Move but an inch and I’ll fire” shouted Simeon below. “If you wish to die a noble death then fine by me, but this is the last I’ll stay my hand. Your choice is submission or extinction! Your king is dead! Say anything but "I surrender" and you can all follow him to the grave. What will it be?” Demoralized and heartbroken by their king’s loss the remaining Zora put down their weapons without a fight. 'Simeon Ryssdal, Zora’s Domain Interior, Evening Three' “Simeon what the hell was that” shouted Zephyra with much anger directed at him. “He was an enemy who refused to surrender. I did what I had to do” said Simeon. “Don’t play dumb with me” she snapped back. “You brought me all the way here to negotiate with the Zora king, only to end up killing him? You know he would have given in to any demand we made. What could he have possibly done to cause you to do something so utterly stupid?” “He was blackmailing us! He learned about my past with the resistance army. If word got out the whole Twili Kingdom could turn against us." "But that didn't mean you had to kill him, he was unarmed! Couldn't you have bargained with him or something?" "And have my strategy dictated by the enemy? Even if I did he could have broken his word. King Realto was stupid enough to blackmail me when I commanded enough power to destroy his entire nation. He deserves what he got." "Oh, well isn't that the noble justification" mocked Zephyra clearly not swayed. "Think what you want about it, the deed is done." replied Simeon waving it off. "All we can do now is move forward. I silenced any Zora who could have overhead me and King Realto, but if a foreigner as distant as him learned about my past it's only a matter of time before word gets out. I have to end the war now before anymore leaks jeopardize my command. It's time to alter our plans." "What are you proposing" questioned Zephyra with her arms crossed. "The thermal bomb we discussed earlier. I'm afraid your going to have forgo bringing it here. Instead I want you to bring it to Ordon Village. Set it up in the center of town, and order my men to prevent anyone from escaping. We're going to hold the village hostage." Zephyra looked at her husband aghast, not truly believeing the order she was told. "You can't be serious. Simeon you said the bomb would be used to melt the frozen water and end the famine in Zora's Domain. What your suggesting amounts to genocide!" "Calm down" said Simeon. "It's nothing at all like genocide. I'm just not helping the Zora at this time. If the Hyruleans, agree to my demands nobody will die from our bomb. You can simply deactivate the countdown, then bring it here to use for humanitarian purposes." "And what if they refuse your demands? Are you going to order me to pull the trigger and watch thousands of innocent people die?" "That won't happen once they learn they have no way to stop us." "That's exactly what you told me last time about the Zora too! I don't know what's gotten into you but your foregoing whatever sense of honor and chivalry you claim to hold. If you go through with this, then your even worse than the Hylians you claim are so evil." Simeon took a deep breath of cold misty air and paused for a moment. "I'm sorry for how much pressure I must be putting on you. I want you to calm down, take a deep breath, and consider traveling back to the Twili Kingdom. I can have one of our mages fill in to do your work for you. After I'm done in Hyrule I'll meet you back in our homeland." "No Simeon! Your just trying to get someone else to do your dirty work because you know I won't do it!" "That's not at all..." "I'm a telepath! You can't lie to me! Grem and his government certified serial killers may have ordered you to commit genocide, but I will have none of it you creep!" "ENOUGH" shouted Simeon as he smashed the bottom of his rod of light into the ground. Beams of blood red lasers shot out in all directions creating molten burn marks across the room. Rocks fell from the ceiling, furniture caught on fire, and the whole room seemed to shake. A frightened Zephyra Ryssdal found herself miraculously unharmed but with an enraged Simeon towering over her. "10,515! That's how many men I've lost in this war so far! I've seen surrendering Twili slaughtered by the enemy, I've seen our people abused and tortured by Hylian hands! I found one of my best officers dead, his eyes gorged out, WITH A FORK! And you have the audacity to claim we're the serial killers?!! You've shown more kindness to the enemy than you ever have for those who fight to keep you safe!" "Simeon I would never speak ill of their cause, but what your asking to do is wrong! We were supposed to invade Hyrule to make it a better place, not destroy it! Your men are fighting under the belief we're bringing Hyrule justice and enlightenment. Can't you see if you do this, everything they fought for will have been a lie? Your selling their morals out to satisfy Grem's crazed quest for power!" "You want a morally superior leader to Grem" asked Simeon. "Guess what, there is none! The only alternatives are those who would see the Twili defeated and destroyed. I fought against injustice before and it ended up with everyone I loved dead. Perhaps if you object to my orders you should kill me, then join the Hylians, then kill anyone else who agrees with me! Then when you've lost everything, perhaps you can lie to yourself that it was all worth it, in the name of a just cause." "I did what I thought was right before and it turned me into a monster. I refuse to betray my nation again! I gave up everything to join Grem and his forces, and I'll be damned if I don't do everything in my power to see them succeed! If you refuse to help then get out of my sight! I am Count Simeon Ryssdal, Field Marshall of the Twili Army. And I will not go down in history as a bloodthirsty turncoat!" Zephyra starred at her husband silently for what felt like and eternity. With out a word she walked to the door to see herself out. Before leaving she turned around to face him with teary red eyes one last time. "...If you use that bomb, your still bloodthirsty as your past self." 'Simeon Ryssdal, Long Night 3-ish, Simeon's Warcamp (In between Zora's Domain and Kakariko)' "How goes the siege? Have you captured the Bryseis bitch?" "Hmmmm" mumbled Simeon, still deep in thought about his fight with Zephyra. "Oh! Lord General! Excuse me sir." Simeon stood up and gave a crisp salute, hiding well any expression he had previously felt. "Your arrival is just in time. Recon reports the Hyruleans have sustained considerable and my main force has yet to even arrive. I've preceded with caution, but the enemy seems to have retreated as fast as we advanced. Their morale is at a low point, one more defeat will see it crack!" "On the subject of Bryseis I've been less fortunate. Intelligence has been unable to pinpoint her exact location, though we consider the chances of her being in Twili controlled territory remote. I'll need your permission to proceed, but I've come up with an... unconventional concept to try an apprehend her. I assume you remember the thermal bomb that was detonated during the Battle of Lake Hylia?" "Yes" replied Lord Grem. "Though originally developed to melt the cursed ice covering the waterways of Hyrule, it proved to be a powerful, if indiscriminate, weapon. Its battlefield capabilities were diminished after one of the enemies somehow absorbed most of the blast, hence why it won't be used in the current battle. Yet a civilian village would have no defense against it. My agents are in route to Ordon Village as we speak to activate the bomb. It can only be stopped if someone inputs the correct combination. Using one of our mages, I plan to send this information telepathicly and hold the Hylians ransom." "Either they bring Kae Bryseis to me, or Ordon Village parishes!" Quietly Simeon gulped down his fear as doubts about the plan began to creap in. He didn't know what Grem would think of him, if he would be disgusted, or overjoyed at the thought of Ordon's potential destruction. After hearing Zephyra's objections he almost wanted Grem to object, but was committed to following through if he agreed. After all they Hylian's had to bring him Bryseis. They couldn't let Ordon simply explode. ...Couldn't they? "I should emphasize I need you explicit approval to see this plan carried out. If not I can attempt to probe enemy territory myself to try and find the scion personally, but it may take more time." 'Mountain of Death' 'Gigagoron, Long Night 3, Goron Forge' The Chieftain patted Giga's hand after bringing him the collected materials for what would become known as The Sword of Daybreak. The onus of its creation fell to their greatest smith, this largest living member of their kind. The forgefires burned with the heat of Death Mountain itself, he had been preparing them all day and it was time. He didn't feel ready, but it was time. The secrets of this task swirled in his mind. Such arcane forces. It might take all night. Or it might not. Magic was not to be considered lightly, and none had attempted a feat as this since the Sages themselves gave the world the Master Sword of legend. There were no true records, of course. Legends and myths. Stories, fireside tales. It was unnerving to think that, one day, such awe-inspiring stories would be told about this very moment. If they won. If they lived. If the world survived for such tales to be told, to be woven. To be forged. His hammer began to pound the metals. An exact amalgam would be needed, to balance the unnatural forces harnessed in the blade. Even this, even making the billet from which the sword would be formed, was a grueling task. He had spent months studying, practicing, perfecting. And without material, at that. Such smithing was more than just laying metal to anvil and pounding it with a hammer. No, there was much science, and much artistry. Such a great task. He approached it reverentially, cautiously, but not fearfully. Those tales, those legends, they would be told. This sword, second only to the Master Sword! He would see it happen! The fires raged. The heat seared. His assistants slowly abandoned him to the room, unable to stand the furnace blast that only Gigagoron, only the biggest and strongest, could bear. They knew the task was in good hands. The high peal of an anvil's shout echoed through Goron City. It rang out from the peak of Death Mountain. Giga was at the hammer. Still the fires raged, and the heat seared. 'Jaden, Kakariko Village, Night 3' He really picked a hell of a time to quit drinking. The stims in his lotus root tea made everything feel like a blur. Between interdimensional warping in time and space and the Mesmeric miasma swirling about his head, an invitation to fight Kinslayer was all he needed to get his adrenaline flowing in a more regulated fashion. "What say you, Jaden? One more time, together?" The Sentinel reached into his pack and pulled out a rather unusual looking stone, grinning as he studied its many facets. "I've got a present for him. It's from a mutual friend of ours. We will do what so many others could not. It'll be an honor to draw swords once more. Let's put an end to Telmar. Lead the way, sir." As he started to walk, Jaden took a long draught of his tea, thinking about his sister and all the trouble she'd been going through. This battle was for her. If it weren't for Kinslayer pushing her to use her powers, she might not have been in the mess she was in with a Sage Medallion grafted into her flesh and bone. Scions normally had short life spans, and he wanted to ensure that Kae had a chance to live as long as Chamdar, if not longer. "You honor me by asking for my blade here, sir. But this score is much more of yours to settle than mine. Are you sure this is what you want?" 'Darrel Mytura, Death Mountain Slopes, Night Three' Heat blistered their faces and acrid, sulfurous smoke stung at their eyes and nostrils as the two made their way up the stony trail. Shoulder to shoulder they climbed, old and young, wearied and worried. Resolute. "You honor me by asking for my blade here, sir. But this score is much more of yours to settle than mine. Are you sure this is what you want?" They crested a rise, pulling themselves up a sheer but short stone face and rolling over the edge onto their backs before rising to their feet. Darrel cast his gaze ahead, up ever more difficult terrain towards the rapacious inferno above, spewing smoke and ash and molten rock into the night sky. "I've borne this vendetta for centuries," he replied softly, never turning his eyes away from where his wife's murderer awaited. "And it's nearly destroyed me." "I don't underst--" "Kinslayer killed my wife, my Helen. He took her from me. That is what I believed, but only because I did not understand. I was too absorbed by the need for vengeance that I could not sense her. Could not hear her vocie." He patted the hilt of Morning's Edge, the golden sunburst upon its pommel. "She was a Celestial. She was of the Sacred Realm, fallen or not. She was never truly gone. I was." He turned to look Jaden in the eye, his friend, his brother in arms. He could not give the young man a smile, for her knew what it was he asked of him. "Kinslayer is more powerful now than ever before, and he must be cast down, but I have let go of my personal rancor. There is another task ahead for me, I fear, and it is not one that I can ask of you, so I must ask of you this. You are the future, Jaden. You and Kae, Horus, and the others. You will be the guardians and protectors of Hyrule from here into the future, if we succeed in ending this war. You will face Primordials and more in the future, and you will do it alone." He breathed a sigh, turned his eyes again skyward. "But me... this is my last war, and I have only one more thing I can give." Crater's Edge - Night Three Some time later they clambered up the rocky face until they found themselves staring down into the pit, the open wound in the mountain. Each was forced to draw a cloth across their mouth and nose to ward off the poisonous clouds, but the flecks of liquid flame burned holes in their clothes and left blisters upon their flesh. Darrel looked around, seeking the Kinslayer and finding nothing within sight until his gaze alighted upon a familiar figure pawing at the rock with its hooves, two figures sharing its saddle. He and Jaden circumnavigated the crate's mouth until they shared the same flat crop of rock with Mirra Lemeris and Lia Chiaria. "I hadn't thought to see you two here," Darrel said over the din. "Have you seen sign of the Kinslayer?" "Of course they haven't, friend," Telmar's voice boomed through the hellscape. "I was waiting for you. It always needed to be you." Four pairs of eyes swiveled out to gaze across the open hole in the mountain, straining to pierce the deathly brume. Within it, a figure could be glimpsed, the folds of his coat fluttering in the blistering winds, truly identifiable only as two points of light, two fiery eyes gazing out at them all. Gradually that shadowy shape within the plumes of black smoke and ash seemed to raise an arm above its head, and suddenly the gloom was eradicated in an eruption of luminescence their eyes could not bear. "You come for this, yes? You come for the Sun Shard so you can craft your precious sword. Well, here it is." Daring to look, Darrel peered out toward Kinslayer in time to see him thrust the shining device down into the crater. A ray of purest sunfire erupted from it, scouring away the sulfurous veil in time to see it pierce into the roiling magma. The eruption that followed sent gouts of flame and slag hundreds of meters into the night sky, and forced the group to hurl themselves down the outer slope of the crater lest they be immolated. "Come and take it, Mytura! Let's have that vengeance you've been centuries hunting!" 'Mirra Lemeris, Death Mountain, Night 3' Mirra ducked low and pulled the shining white visor of her helm across her face, suddenly seeing the world in a veil of spiritual energy—and gaining access to Roc’s mind overhead. The divine falcon soared wide afield of the volcano blast, but circled around to catch a glimpse of the Kinslayer standing contrapposto to the brink of the crater where they’d fallen. His long talons tapped along his scaled biceps as he awaited the group’s next move. Even without seeing him attack, she knew she would be unable to face the Primordial head on. “I shall do what I can to retrieve the Sun Shard. Use these, and try to draw his ire.” Mirra quickly knelt before Darrel and Jaden, and slipped two of Roc’s feathers in either of their boots. The two compatriots found their steps freer, and their weapons lighter in their hands. With a grim nod, she then pulled her scarlet hood over her helm and dashed away into the gathering smoke. It gave her no pause with her vision enchanted, and Roc sailed high overhead helping her find her way among the rocks. Before long, she reached the far side of the crater, putting Isaac in the pit of the crater between herself and the other Allies. Once they engaged him, she would have the element of surprise. Creeping down, she kept her distance from the battle, and readied her angelic bow with a Light Arrow. Carefully, she began peering along the cracks of the volcanic pit Telmar occupied, looking for signs of the Sun Shard below. As long as the volcano stayed active, there was a chance it would wash up on the black igneous crag. 'Mirra Lemeris, Death Mountain Crater, Long Night 3' Mirra gazed out over the shimmering crater looking for hope amid black and burning despair. Isaac stood menacingly over the shifting slabs of lava, while her allies braced themselves at the fire lake’s far shore. She and Lia had reached the crater’s opposite end, huddled behind a boulder, with Hathor crouched in a crevice behind them, and high above their heads, her gyrfalcon, Roc. Like a white flag on a high breeze, the raptor rounded the incandescent plumes of smoke that rose from the ruptured rock. He drew a wide circle in the bleak night sky, until he reached the edge of the volcano’s haze, and the silver tips of his wings seemed to graze the stars. Finally, his shadow danced across the moon, and seemed to hang there, frozen in time, until the black shadow grew larger, and it was clear to Mirra from far below that Roc had begun his descent. She lowered her visor and began to slow her breathing. Faster and faster, the winged beast gathered the red and black whirlwind of the volcano around him, a vortex following in his wake as he propelled himself towards the boiling lava at breakneck speed. He opened his beak as if to scream, but no sound came out, except in the mind of his Aviatrix, who knelt to the ground suddenly, clutching her white visor to the sides of her face. Into the molten core of the mountain her falcon flew, and all around her, in her mind’s eye, she was blinded by the sudden brilliant amber glow of the churning hell below her. Deeper he flew, his wings spreading wide through the fire as though it were cloud, until into the pit of the inferno he found it: the Sun Shard, suspended in the flame. But his dive did not stop. Plunging further, more magma merged with the falcon’s feathers, until the heat and light of the inferno coated his hollow bones. His beak became an obsidian black, a whetted scythe’s edge to the touch. In his cruel talons a hidden fire began to brew that rivaled the blaze of the very Sun Shard they clutched. His tail feathers stretched into the distance with dancing flames, and his eyes lost their dead black kernels for the searching stars of a cold, cloudless night. In a flush of fire, the phoenix Roc emerged from the furnace of Gigagoron, having trekked within the bowels of the mountain to the lair of its greatest smith. With the Megaton Hammer in his right hand and the hilt of the Daybreak Sword in the left, the Giant Goron wrought that magic of the red earth worked in the dawn of time by Din Herself, swinging his strong, flaming arms with all the joy and power of life and the universe. The echo of his hammer bounded through the high cavern walls of his smithy like a belltower, shaking the world above and swirling with the sparks and cinders that spiraled overhead. “At last, the time has come to end this long night,” the behemoth blacksmith bellowed, bidding an arcane blessing into the fibers of the sword. He turned the white hot blade in his fists horizontally, and raised it over his head towards Roc, who hovered in the air with the Sun Shard aloft. In a flash, Roc flapped his wings towards the sword and swooped along its length, dropping the Sun Shard like a missile, and it seeped into the pulsating blade and began to melt, a pitched ring piercing the air as the two made contact. The Sun Shard dissolved into a golden liquid that gradually spread over the entire sword, until the aura of the rising sun began to breathe almost rhythmically just under the blade’s surface. Fused with the final treasure, the Daybreak Sword was complete. “Haste, O winged one, haste! Let Din’s justice fly with Her phoenix!” A subterranean rumble began to shake the smithy’s walls as the phoenix Roc took hold of the Daybreak Sword. Its aura spread to him, casting gold rays from each break in the long feathers of his wings, giving him a new and untouchable speed. He entered once more the furnace of Gigagoron’s forge and made his way upward, a phoenix on a thermal of fire, climbing Death Mountain’s burning heart from within until with a final raging heave of the earth he and the sword ripped into the night’s smoke and stars. “At last,” Mirra finally whispered under the screen of her visor. She tore the metal mask aside, and looked upon her falcon with her own two eyes. Her crimson hair unfurled over her shoulders without her helm, and when she met Roc’s eyes, the same fire burned within hers as within the newly forged Daybreak Sword in his grasp. The smog of the volcano cleared away in a column of wind between them under Roc’s fiery wings, and she reached out her hand towards the bird. Crouching down, the blue feathers tucked into the sides of her boots began to glow and grew into small gold wings. Mirra leapt into the air, suddenly borne aloft as if flying, and seized the Daybreak Sword in one white gauntleted hand. As soon as she touched the sword, a shockwave of Light funneled out in every direction, compounded with wave upon wave of Light magic as she slowly rose to hover over the center of the crater, dispelling the smoke in a turning orb of all-consuming Light. “The time has come to end this long night,” a voice came from within the blinding ball of Light that the Aviatrix had entered. When it cleared, she was changed utterly. The figure before the gathered heroes and their nemesis was taller than Mirra had been, her armor gilded with gold plate and undergirded with silken robes and polished mail both of sanguine crimson. Her face was obscured by a gold gilded visor that showed only her thin mouth beneath its aquiline point, and above all, the figure had wings. Arcing, white and grey wings stretched from her pale, exposed back, and layers of light poured from their feathers like ripples over a pond. She was impossible to look upon directly. She bore the Daybreak Sword as though it were a moment chosen in her destiny. She was Mirrukh, the Thunderbird incarnate. “You have survived this war shifting from side to side like wildfire in the grass, Isaac Telmar,” Mirrukh intoned as the obscuring aura subsided. “But the Light's reign will cleanse your fires as surely as the Dusk’s chaos stoked them.” With her hand on Daybreak’s hilt, she stepped in closer towards Isaac, beginning to circle him with her head bowed forward cautiously. As she drew close, the rim of the horizon began to shine with the first thin lines of red, signaling that the last sunrise had begun. “Step aside now, Kinslayer, and upon my intercession the gods will show mercy. I have been sent here to end this War of the Interloper known as Grem, and I would not shed unnecessary blood in that pursuit.” 'The Primordial Flame - Death Mountain Crater - Long Night Three' "Step aside now, Kinslayer, and upon my intercession the gods will show mercy. I have been sent here to end this War of the Interloper known as Grem, and I would not shed unnecessary blood in that pursuit." Pebbled lips drew back in a rictus sneer as fire flashed in his serpent's eyes. "The Dusk was a tool only; no more than the manner in which I seized the end of my leash. I am blood and fire, heaven's whore, and I do not acquiesce to your Three," came his reply. Still, the sword that was Hyrule's perceived salvation gleamed brilliantly in the Thunderbird's fist as she brandished it between them, and he could feel the bright heat radiating off of the steel in waves. A weapon like few he'd seen, spectacular to behold. They hung suspended above the turbulent furnace below, facing one another across a span of meters amid smoke and ash, among calescent winds and plumes of molten rock sprayed hundreds of feet into the night, and Isaac open himself to the moment, to the damnable inferno. He was the dragon of the dark, the Primordial Flame. His flesh, exposed beneath the fluttering folds of his blood stained coat, was a shell of armored scales. His hands ended in cruel, steely talons and his feet had changed similarly, so that the clawed toes stabbed through the drakeskin of his boots. The serpent now slithered actively across his flesh, no longer sealed to his abdomen but ever moving, a thing writ of living flame and now fully awake. He lifted his left talon. Grasped therein was the great dagger with its blade, sinuously curved like the folds of a serpent, like a tongue of flame, gleaming darkly in the hellish glare that lit them from below. The hilt smoldered black, wreathed in smoke, until a jet of dark fire shot from the pommel, extending out into the haft of the Infernal Glaive. As it solidified, he gave it a single, casual twirl through the fingers of his left talon before directing the point of it towards the woman. In his periphery he could see Mytura, standing helplessly at the edge of hell's chasm. The Sunrise Knight - Death Mountain Crater He could but look on helplessly, unable to fly or float as Mirra and... whatever Kinslayer was becoming. He stood with Morning's Herald bound to his left arm and Morning's Edge gripped in his right, but he could not reach his foe. Were Mirra to bring him close enough, Darrel might be able to use the Horizon Lash to bring Isaac to him. But he could feel the forces arrayed against one another here, and he was not sure if he could defeat Isaac now, here atop Death Mountain, in the heart of his element. And even if he did, Isaac would simply reconstitute, now seemingly stronger than ever. The Daybreak Sword might be their best chance. The Primordial Flame - Death Mountain Crater "Come then, heaven's whore! Let's taste this blade into which you've placed all your hopes!" A forked tongue slithered through between pointed teeth to wet his lips as he bent and hurled himself forward with a bellowing dragon's cry, stabbing at the winged woman with the Glaive, which burned black and swept a wake of venomous violet wildfire behind. They closed in a blink, blade meeting blade in the heart of hell on earth. Primal, elemental forces met with such force that the earth and the air, the mountain and the night trembled, and there within the glare of light and fire they hacked at one another. Through it all, Isaac assaulted her mind and soul, psychically tearing at her with the undisciplined rage of the unconstrained conflagration. He meant to leave her as nothing. The Sunrise Knight - Death Mountain Crater Such was the fury of their clash that Darrel could no longer make out the two beings doing battle here at the world's apex. He lowered his shield and let the point of his sword dig into the stone beside his right boot. He tried to cry out to Mirra, but he knew she could not hear him. All the while he could hear battle raging below at the foot of the mountain. Kakariko Village was under assault, and soon the Hylians would be forced to retreat up the slopes in the hope that Goron City might make for them a refuge, a place for their final stand. He turned away from the crater and toward the mountain path leading down. If he could not face Isaac in battle, then with the sword already crafted he was of no more use here. He could join the fight below, and either live or die shoulder to shoulder with his countrymen. As he took his first footstep off the precipice to make his way down, he heard the horns begin to sound through the night. Twili horns. The brazen blasts heralding the coming of Lord General Grem. He turned his head to try and shout at Mirra again, to warn her, but no good would come of it. They needed the sword to deal with Kinslayer before they could bring it to bear against the true enemy. If Grem made it up the slope and he and Kinslayer could pin Mirra between them... You will have to find your way without them, Helen's voice rang from Morning's Edge. He descended the mountain in leaps and bounds, using the Roc's feather and his own spirit-fueled muscles to cover enormous distance with speed as below the Twili began to pour through the gates. "O Lord General!" came his full-throated bellow. "We've unfinished business, you and I!" 'Mirrukh, Death Mountain Crater, Dawn 4' Mirrukh parried a blow from the Kinslayer’s black glaive with her shining gauntlet, and thrust the Daybreak Sword forward at his chest as the lip of dawn began its slow crawl over the horizon. They locked into a stranglehold, Isaac’s unholy glaive putting up ample resistance to the Daybreak Sword for the moment, so great was the awful fire which he fed it with. As though it were tied to the toil of the Light’s warriors below, the sunrise slowed to an imperceptible climb. Their eyes pierced one another over their conjoined weapons. “Next time you would curse one of the angels,” Mirrukh grunted to him over clenched teeth, “I suggest you do it on the ground.” Though he lunged backward, a burst of sunlight flared from her sword and thrust him back in midair, hurling Isaac into the dark cloud of ash that swirled behind them. She did not rest. Mirrukh dashed forward, propelled by her wings, and slashed upward through the smoke in Isaac’s direction. The plumes parted in her wake and before he could right himself from the blast, her Sword cut across his exposed back just as the iridescent serpent of his skin moved across it. A furious roar burst from his throat even as the snake seemed to twist him over to face her. She beheld soot and fire with a new heat billowing from his very mouth and eyes. A tongue of flame curled across his lips and he reared his claws back, but the smaller, faster Mirrukh threw her right fist into an uppercut that smashed his jaw and dispelled the flaming tongue. With the same arm, she thrust her elbow down into his exposed sternum, and rocketed further into the billowing smoke to shove him almost to the crater’s edge. He caught himself at last, but Mirrukh was ready, hoisting the Daybreak Sword up in her left hand above her head and clutching it with the right once he stopped, then bringing it down on the scales of his scalp to pummel him into the beachhead of blackened ash. “Your hellfire is nothing to the fires of the Dawn!” she called down, her mouth and eyes now glowing with their own white light. “Whatever your aim in this war, Kinslayer, I will not suffer hell’s bastard to delay the Dawn any longer.” He caught himself before smacking into a slanted slab of rock, and with all four talons managed to catch himself and crawl vertically to the peak of the rock. But when he turned, a white column had encased Mirrukh, her wings wrapped around her tightly, and with arms folded upright as if to dive she ascended through the billowing smoke in a spiraling cone of wind. 'Mirrukh,Death Mountain Trail, Dawn 4' Like a comet arcing over the horizon, Mirrukh soared from the heights of Death Mountain Crater into the rocky trails below with light streaming behind her. She landed at the side of the Sunrise Knight, and held the Daybreak Sword aloft to match his brandished Morning’s Edge. “Let us fell this accursed Interloper together, Sunrise Knight,” she called. Together, their auras lit the mountainside with a layer of gold as if the dawn itself had crested the horizon, though it hadn’t yet. In a flash, they reached the town gates, and found Kakariko covered in a mix of Red Ice and Blue Fire, evil clouds still circling overhead, seeming to converge over the graveyard in the distance behind a damaged high wall, somehow still standing. “We can only hope the townsfolk have made it into the vilage’s secret passages,” Mirrukh observed, looking out over the devastation. Darrel nodded. “This was once a Sheikah stronghold; may the old ways preserve them.” At the far gates, the first line of Grem’s soldiers were pouring into the town square, making their way towards the slopes of Death Mountain where Darrel and Mirrukh stood. “The time has come!” she shouted, as the two of them charged into battle. With frenzied cries of warriors enraged by a long march, the Twili infantry closed in on the Daybreak Allies with sword and spell, ripping craters into the earth with their Dusk magic. Mirrukh swept the Daybreak Sword before them only once. With a tremulant song of angels that seemed to slow Time itself, a wave of Light leapt from her blade so powerful it blinded the men as far back as the town’s stairwell entrance, obliterating the first line of Twili in its path. Her visor pulled low and wings spread to their fullest, Mirrukh began to plow forward, overpowering the mortal Twili with her aura alone. As she felt Grem’s putrid presence drawing nigh at the rear guard, she silently prayed in the back of her mind for the first halting rays of dawn to grow.